Mathematicians and scientists search for theories and equations in which physical properties and their relationships are explained with the fewest words and symbols. Pythagoras neatly formulated how to calculate the length of a triangle’s hypotonus as the square root of the sum of the squares of its two sides. Copernicus offered a path to our understanding of the seemingly confounding movement of planets in the night sky with the simple assertion that the earth rotates on an axis and it and the other planets rotate around the sun, facilitating Kepler’s subsequent succinct explanations of planetary motion. Newton’s laws of motion explained gravity at one level of analysis (F= ma), Einstein’s general theory of relativity at another (E=mc2). With minimal means these formulations offer maximum descriptive power and maximum agency in their applicability. Mathematicians and scientists refer to them as “elegant”.
When we pay close attention to any sight, sound, or sensation we notice that which we do not ordinarily notice when our attention is otherwise turned toward scanning our environment for purposes of our negotiation and navigation of it. In the attending, we find that there are few things, if any, in the world that are boring and instead mostly beautiful once we bore into them. Visual art that facilitates this kind of experience maximizes our attention toward whatever it is it wants us to notice with the reward that our relationship with reality is enhanced and even altered. The artist invests time consuming and labor-intensive effort in extracting precisely from the world for display in the art what we are to attend to and no more. We know this as “minimalism.”
Minimalist art is sometimes characterized as “difficult” because it can require effort to release ourselves from the noise of our daily distractions to first find and then attend to what it has to offer. (Rothko’s paintings do better in the context of Philip Johnson’s chapel in Dallas than they would on a wall in a restaurant); and, to our 21st century sensibilities sometimes as “elegant” because it can come off as refined, restrained and therefore dignified and graceful even though this is rarely the goal of ambitious minimalist art.
All architecture is minimalist as it is an extraction from (and abstraction of) the natural environment and all architects are therefore to an extent minimalists. But ambitiously minimalist architecture, like minimalist art, seeks to focus our attention on those aspects of our environment that we normally overlook: the serenity of uninterrupted surfaces, the gradations of shade on shaped surfaces, the textures, patterns, and juxtapositions of materials on surfaces, and the changing qualities of daylight on them. Minimalist architecture is difficult to pull off because it, like minimalist art, requires a controlled environment in which to create the desired conditions that buildings cluttered by daily use within cluttered cities rarely offer (and one reason why architects seek museum, concert hall, theater, and church commissions).
The modernist Mies van der Rohe was probably the first ambitiously minimalist architect. To this day we endure the famous, if by now tired and trite pronouncement “less is more” that he first uttered a century ago and subsequently manifested in his metal and glass buildings that strived to minimize mass and fuss. But what was supposed to have been elegant in its simplicity turned out to be easily dumbed down, corrupted by developer driven knockoffs and in the context of our cluttered cities, boring. Less was just less. Then we got the slightly cheeky response “more is more” probably first uttered by the maximalist Los Angeles interior designer Tony Duquette sometime in the 1970s. Interior designers never were convinced by the modernist prohibition against imagery and ornament and remained open to all aesthetic possibility—from austerity to indulgence, and everything between.
But while the kind of elegance offered by ambitious minimalist architecture and even minimalist effects within a maximalist context can yield satisfying visual outcomes, it is less this kind of elegance and more that which is the equivalent of the mathematician’s equation and scientist’s theorem, the kind that yields fulfilling aesthetic experiences and maximum agency with minimum means that we seek. Neither the minimalism of van der Rohe nor the maximalism of Duquette, this is the kind of elegance that welcomes and receives all manner of content—the collection and collision of a wealth of diverse and sometimes seemingly disparate ideas and imagery—while also achieving through the integration and distillation of it economically and meaningfully arranged, distinctly articulated and simply expressed compositions and environments.